


New Friends

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e13 The Blue Spirit, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sickfic, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Not for the first time since he woke up in the South Pole, Aang wishes he could ask Gyatso for advice. It’s not like he ever had a class on what to do with a sick firebender prince intent on taking him prisoner.-What if: Sokka and Katara weren't the only ones to get sick from the storm. Zuko's illness catches up with him at an incredibly inconvenient time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so my latest hyperfixation has come along at an EXTREMELY inconvenient time given that i'm supposed to be writing my stucky secret santa but That's Life

Considering how difficult fighting him had been, Aang had expected Zuko to be, well, heavier. But the young prince was thin and even downright skinny in some places and, even without bending, Aang didn’t have much difficulty carrying him to safety. 

The very thought of carrying  _ Zuko  _ to  _ safety _ was kind of making his head spin. Never mind that, the fact that Zuko just saved him from that creepy Fire Nation guy is making him think that maybe  _ he’s  _ the one hallucinating from fever. But he feels fine. Zuko on the other hand - Zuko is  _ hot.  _ Like, really hot.

Maybe firebenders run hot? It’s been a long time since Aang spent enough time with one to notice one way or the other. Zuko’s face is flushed nearly the same colour as his scar and Aang can almost swear he sees steam coming off of his skin. Aang puffs out a worried breath and finds a relatively sheltered spot beneath a large tree where he quickly airbends some leaves into a pile. As carefully as he can, he hauls Zuko off his back and lays him down on the makeshift bed. Zuko groans and coughs as he settles but doesn’t wake. Aang is grateful for that because it means Zuko definitely can’t see him looking at a complete loss for what to do.

Not for the first time since he woke up in the South Pole, Aang wishes he could ask Gyatso for advice. It’s not like he ever had a class on what to do with a sick firebender prince intent on taking him prisoner. 

But apparently not  _ so  _ intent on it that he hadn’t just freed Aang from an evil Fire Nation fortress for reasons which remain a mystery to him. Aang had thought, until pretty much right now, that Zuko had wanted to capture him to ensure that he couldn’t bring an end to the war. But now he’s thinking that this whole situation is actually a lot more complicated and messed up than he thought. Because it’s not like Zuko just snatched him from Appa’s back; he risked his life to infiltrate a Fire Nation prison in order to rescue him and, now that Aang thinks about it, he didn’t bend once. 

Zuko coughs weakly, curling in on himself until he’s impossibly small with a flurry of violent shivers and it occurs to Aang that Zuko had been out in that storm too. Cautiously, Aang reaches out and presses the inside of his wrist to Zuko’s forehead. Yeah, okay. Even if firebenders  _ do  _ run hot, there’s no way this is normal. 

“Zuko?” Aang whispers cautiously, caught between concern for Zuko’s health and a pretty strong desire not to get captured and taken to the Fire Lord. 

But Zuko doesn’t look capable of dragging him bodily back to his ship right now. Honestly, Aang is quite suddenly struck by how young the prince really is. The scar ages him, as does the perpetually furious expression he seems to wear so comfortably. But now, with the lines of his face smoothed out by sleep and his limbs folded almost fearfully around his shivering body, he looks almost younger than Katara. 

As Aang carefully pulls back Zuko’s hood to reveal his unusually loose ponytail, he is reminded unpleasantly of Kuzon and the fact that he’d never see him again. Aang isn’t sure why the memory surfaces because, really, Zuko and Kuzon don’t look much alike, but the sadness he’s been steadfastly avoiding has been leaking out at inconvenient times since his talk with Katara. He wonders mournfully what happened to Kuzon, if he fought in the war. 

He shakes these thoughts from his mind with a literal shake of his head. Gyatso would tell him that grief is natural, that it’s important to feel its intensity before you can move on from it. But Aang doesn’t have the luxury of feeling his grief right now. As wise as Gyatso is (was), he’s never been at war. 

Zuko coughs again, more urgently this time, and Aang tenses as he sees the prince’s eyes flicker open, one hand pressed to his chest while the coughs rattle through him. Aang stays quiet, unsure of what to do, until Zuko squints up at him with honest confusion and not a hint of his usual anger. 

“Avatar?” He croaks and Aang winces in sympathy at the rough scrape of his throat. 

“You’re sick,” Aang says from his perch on top of a particularly large root. “And you rescued me from that scary Fire Nation prison so I feel like I kind of owe you. But I suppose technically you did chase me around the world first so maybe now we’re even?”

Zuko blinks up at him with glassy eyes and rubs his face. Aang can’t help but notice, as Zuko’s hand passes over his burn, that the scar is in the shape of another’s hand. A larger hand. Aang shudders. 

As Zuko’s hand begins fumbling shakily with his ponytail, a look of pain flashes across his face and Aang jumps down from the root to help him. He unties Zuko’s hair, patiently batting away the prince’s hands when he tries weakly to take over, and sits down next to him on an outcropping rock. 

“Does your head hurt?” Aang asks, mostly for something to say. Zuko doesn’t answer but Aang ploughs on, undeterred. “You got knocked out with an arrow and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

Slowly and with obvious effort, Zuko pushes himself to sit up, practically slumping against the trunk of the tree when the effort completely drains him. His breathing is harsh and uneven and it’s not long before he dissolves into another bout of coughing. He sounds much worse than Karata or even Sokka and Aang feels an overwhelming surge of sympathy. While Zuko tries to get his breathing under control again, Aang tries very hard not to freak out. He has no idea what to do. He can’t leave Zuko here, that much is obvious. Even if he manages to stand - which at the moment is looking unlikely if his struggle to  _ sit  _ is any indication - Aang doesn’t think he’ll make it back to his ship. But he can’t  _ take  _ Zuko back to his ship either without effectively handing himself over to the Fire Nation. And his friends need him. He can’t just stay here. 

“Okay, I don’t think you’re going to like this but you’re also pretty sick so you don’t really get a vote,” Aang says, feeling somewhat more cheerful now that he knows what he needs to do. “So I’m going to take you back to my friends and then I’ll get some frogs for you all to suck on and you’ll feel better.”

Aang can’t quite decide if the look of disgust on Zuko’s face is because of the plan generally or the frogs specifically. 

“No,” he says, sounding somehow even worse than he had before. Probably all that coughing. 

“Like I said, you don’t really get a vote,” Aang says cheerfully, bending the air beneath Zuko to get him to his feet and promptly hauling him onto his back before he can collapse. 

Zuko doesn’t so much struggle as he does wriggle somewhat pathetically before quickly giving in. He tucks his face into Aang’s neck, though Aang isn’t sure if that’s because he’s comfortable or trying to hide his embarrassment at being carried through the forest by his twelve-year-old enemy. 

It doesn’t take long for Zuko to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm tempted to continue this but also have legit no idea where it would go. i don't think he'd join the gaang but would he go back to his ship with a different perspective? how would that change his actions? i don't KNOW


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been inspired by your thoughtful comments and this has accidentally become a full blown au so i'll do my best to update as quickly as i can!

Sokka and Katara are somewhat less open to the idea of Zuko being around than Aang, perhaps even less open than Zuko is, if that’s possible. But not even Katara, who seems to have made Zuko the face of everything she hates about the nation responsible for the death of her mother, can stomach the idea of leaving Zuko to succumb to his fever. The frogs hadn’t cured him like they had Sokka and Katara. If anything, Zuko only seemed to be getting worse. 

“I say we take him back to that ship of his,” Sokka is saying for possibly the millionth time while he rolls up his sleeping bag and tosses it up into Appa’s saddle. “Do a flyover and drop him off on deck. Problem solved.”

“And how can we be sure the crew won’t try to capture Aang and hand him over to the Fire Lord?” Katara argues, hands resting on her hips. Aang is sure this is at least the twelfth time they’ve had this exact conversation. 

“Come on, guys,” he says, looking over at where a sleeping Zuko is doing his level best to sink all the way into Appa’s fur. “Zuko saved me from that scary Fire Nation castle. I don’t think he wants to catch me for the reasons we thought.”

Katara scowls. “It doesn’t matter  _ why.  _ What matters is that he’s definitely working on his father’s orders and we absolutely can’t trust anything he says.”

Aang has an idea then. Apparently this shows on his face because Sokka makes a defeated noise while Katara’s scowl only intensifies.

“Whatever ridiculous plan you’re cooking up-” she begins, but Aang is already bursting with excitement at having come up with possibly the Best Plan in the World and can’t hold back.

“Maybe we can’t trust anything he says  _ normally,”  _ Aang begins slowly, pausing for dramatic effect just long enough for Sokka to catch on and let out another defeated groan. “But he’s sick! He called me his uncle when I was bringing him back here.”

Sokka smirks. “So we interrogate him when he’s defenceless!”

Aang frowns. “No! But we’re going to have to take him with us while he recovers and it’s not like we never speak when we’re flying. We could just...try to include him in conversation.”

“Include him in conversation,” Sokka says, his entire being radiating with disbelief. “Aang, have you forgotten that he’s the literal prince of the Fire Nation? What if he’s just pretending to be sick so he can spy on us and report all our plans back to his slimy Father Lord?”

“Sokka, he’s running a fever even higher than yours,” Katara reasons.

“So? He’s a firebender. He’s gotta be able to control his own body temperature.”

Aang watches the suspicion return to Katara’s face as she thinks about that and sighs. 

“Look, guys. Even if firebenders  _ could  _ do that, do you really think Zuko would take that risk?” He argues calmly. “I mean, as far as he knows, all we’ve ever done is fight him. Why would he let his guard down around us like that?”

“Because he’s preying on your good nature, Aang!” Sokka practically yells, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Whatever Sokka had been about to say next, however, is cut off by an honest to spirits  _ whimper  _ from the Zuko-shaped lump in Appa’s side. Aang’s heart instantly tugs in sympathy (maybe Sokka does have a point) and he bounces over to check Zuko’s temperature by pressing the back of his fingers against his neck. There are beads of sweat covering Zuko’s face and he’s shivering so hard that Appa shifts to try and get a better look at what’s tickling his leg. Aang gently rubs the arrow on the top of Appa’s head and turns back to the others with renewed determination.

“We’re taking him with us,” he says, voice leaving no room for argument. “I know it’s a risk but I think it’s one we have to take. The monks taught me that we should care for each other in sickness, even if we end up having to care for our enemy.”

Thinking about the monks inevitably reminds him that they’re gone. He’s the last airbender and, even worse, the last of the Air Nomads. There’s nobody else to keep the teachings of the monks alive - so Aang is going to have to do it himself. 

He doesn’t wait for Katara and Sokka’s approval before he carefully bends the air beneath Zuko once more and lifts him into Appa’s saddle. Zuko jolts awake with the movement and sits up, making Katara reach defensively for her water skin. When his eyes finally settle on Aang in the saddle beside him, he relaxes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, Uncle,” he mutters, blinking blearily at Aang before closing his eyes and listing sideways until his body is pressed up against Aang’s side. 

Awkwardly, Aang pats the top of Zuko’s ponytail-less head and says, “Uh, that’s alright kiddo. Just...eat your greens next time.”

Katara raises an amused eyebrow. “Eat your greens?”

(“Kiddo?” Sokka snickers.)

“Well, I don’t know what kind of problems princes have in the Fire Nation these days,” Aang says defensively, trying in vain to disentangle himself from Zuko without jostling him too much. In the end, he manages to get Zuko’s head resting in his lap and is about to try and shuffle out from under him when Momo curls up on top of Zuko’s head, apparently enjoying having his own personal furnace.

Sokka clambers gracelessly up on the Appa’s head while Katara takes a seat across from Aang in the saddle, her eyes still glinting with humour. Aang sticks his tongue out at her and pets Momo’s ears. 

“Appa, yip yip!” Sokka calls and they take off.

Aang looks down at the feverish prince in his lap and can’t resist a somewhat fond smile. Despite Katara and Sokka’s grumbling, Aang knows there was never really any chance that they’d leave Zuko behind. 

(Especially when he’d received Appa’s patented Seal of Approval - i.e. a big lick - and charmed Momo with delirious ear scratches. When he was running a fever, the prince of the Fire Nation was almost  _ cute. _ )

“Does this count as kidnapping?” Katara asks suddenly, sounding caught between anxiety and amusement. 

Sokka scoffs. “Most polite kidnapping I’ve ever seen.”

He has a point. Aang tries not to think about it. The absolute  _ last  _ thing they need right now is to be on the Fire Lord’s personal hit list for kidnapping his son.

Zuko’s voice echoes in his head.  _ I suppose you wouldn’t know of fathers, being raised by monks.  _

Though Aang is wondering if perhaps he has a better understanding of fathers than Zuko himself. Katara had told him about Zuko’s claim that he needed to capture the avatar to restore his honour. But, if Aang is remembering correctly, honour in the Fire Nation is the most important quality one can possess. Losing one’s honour is not only a sign of failure but practically of disownment. How had Zuko screwed up so badly that the Fire Lord would strip him of his honour?

“He’s been looking for me for three years,” Aang thinks aloud, catching Katara’s confused gaze. He shrugs. “He must have been around my age when he started looking. It’s weird that they’d send a kid to capture the most dangerous enemy of the Fire Nation, right?”

Katara looks thoughtful. “It is kind of weird.”

“And everybody thought I was dead for a hundred years,” Aang goes on, starting to feel a little sick at the picture he’s painting in his head. The developing picture of Zuko’s past goes so completely against everything Aang learned from the monks about family that he’s tempted to dismiss it completely. And maybe he did, unconsciously, until Zuko rescued him from that fortress. 

“Yeah, but I’ll bet they’ve had people out looking for you all this time,” Sokka chimes in, lying back on Appa’s head and rolling onto his stomach to face them. “You’re the avatar. If they thought there was a chance you’d still be out there, they’d have been trying to track you down.”

“I guess,” Aang says though there is an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach that he can’t quite ignore. 

Katara’s expression is unreadable but it’s clear she doesn’t find Sokka’s explanation any more satisfying than Aang does. This whole thing just doesn’t  _ quite  _ make sense and it’s going to drive Aang crazy if he thinks about it for one more second.

“So what do you guys think the North Pole will be like?” He asks lamely. 

This seems to brighten Katara’s mood considerably. While she talks about the possibility of waterbenders and spirits, Aang finds his eyes and thoughts drifting unconsciously back to the prince sleeping restlessly in his lap. 


	3. Chapter 3

Aang’s master plan of “including Zuko in conversation” is proving more difficult than anticipated. For one thing, Zuko seems convinced that Aang is his uncle and will not stop cycling back round to expressions like “you’ve lost weight” and “when did you shave your beard?” and, most frequently, “I’m sorry”. Aang still has no idea what exactly Zuko thinks he, or his uncle, is upset about so he’s been cycling through his own responses in turn. So far he has determined that it’s not about eating his vegetables or about homework or about something he did on the ship. The closest Aang gets to a proper reaction is the fifth time Zuko apologises. 

“It’s okay,” he says yet again. “Just be careful what you say next time.”

With these words, Zuko becomes incredibly still. Katara is holding Appa’s reins and Sokka is puzzling over his map so Aang is the only one paying attention to their almost prisoner. He tries to pry Zuko’s head away from where it’s pretty much constantly buried in his neck but the prince’s whole body becomes rigid.

“It was my fault,” Zuko says, sounding years younger than he is. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Aang says nervously, feeling utterly out of his depth. He doesn’t even know what Zuko is  _ talking  _ about. Honestly, he doesn’t think Zuko even knows what he’s talking about. 

Zuko starts to cough then - a rough, damp sound which makes Aang’s heart rate spike. But he holds his body stiff, his mouth clamped shut to make as little noise as possible.

“Uh, guys?” Aang says when it becomes clear that Zuko is neither going to allow himself to cough or manage to stop himself spasming any time soon. 

Katara looks round first, her brows furrowing in concern when she sees the pain written in the sharp lines of Zuko’s face. Zuko’s whole body jerks violently with each not-cough which has Momo pawing at his chest in obvious concern. There are tears tumbling down Zuko’s cheeks and Aang doesn’t think before he reaches forward to wipe them away. Zuko jerks away from him so suddenly that he startles himself into coughing properly. 

“Hey, Zuko, it’s okay,” Aang says, feeling very much like he’s talking to a frightened animal as he reaches forward to catch Zuko’s wrists before he falls over the edge of the saddle. 

Zuko has stopped coughing but his breath is coming in short gasps and his eyes are wide with terror. 

“Please,” Zuko whispers. “Don’t.”

Aang glances helplessly at Katara and Sokka who both look as upset as he feels. Carefully, Katara climbs from Appa’s head into the saddle and sits next to Zuko, wrapping her arm around his back to help Aang support him. 

“Nobody is going to do anything you don’t want,” she says soothingly, lowering her voice even further when Zuko flinches away from her. “We just want to make sure you don’t fall, okay? Do you think you could move away from the edge?”

Zuko doesn’t look up from where he’s focusing intently on his knees but he gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod and shuffles a little closer to Aang. Katara’s encouraging smile is lost on him but it makes Aang feel a little better. 

“M’sorry,” Zuko says and, instead of frightened, he sounds completely emotionless. Somehow, this is much worse. “I meant you no disrespect.”

Aang frowns, loosening his grip on Zuko’s wrists so he can hold his shaking hands instead. Slowly, he moves closer to their knees are touching, joined hands resting in Zuko’s lap. 

“Nobody here will hurt you, Zuko,” Aang says, sounding somehow both gentle and fierce. “If anybody wants to, they’ll have to go through me. And I’m the avatar so they won’t get very far.”

“The avatar,” Zuko says, still sounding far away. “I need to…”

But whatever Zuko had been going to say is interrupted when Momo climbs into his lap, forcing Aang to let go of his hands. He’s still too close to the edge of the saddle for Aang’s liking but Katara’s arm is still holding him tight. 

“Hey, little guy,” Zuko mutters and, like a puppet cut from its strings, the tension seeps straight out of his body. 

And then he does something Aang has never seen Zuko do: he smiles. The effect is immediate and overwhelming. The smile changes his entire face more dramatically than Aang ever thought possible. The angry furrow in his brow smooths out and the corners of his eyes crinkle in obvious delight as he scratches behind Momo’s ears. Momo, for his part, is immensely enjoying the attention and rolls over in Zuko’s lap so the prince can rub his stomach, chirping happily. 

“I wish I could sneak you inside,” Zuko murmurs with another fond smile. “But Azula would probably kill you.”

Aang chokes. “What?”

Zuko glances up, all previous fear gone to be replaced only by confusion, like he doesn’t understand why Aang is even questioning it. 

“You know what she’s like, Uncle,” he says with a shrug which is entirely too nonchalant given the subject matter of  _ a lemur-murdering girl.  _ Zuko sighs.

“Uh, yeah,” Aang says, sharing a panicked glance with Sokka. “She’s a crazy one.”

Zuko snorts and Momo jolts upright, crawling up Zuko’s shirt until he’s settled on the back of his neck, tail flicking absently into Zuko’s hair. 

“Understatement,” he says and then gives an almighty yawn. 

“Why don’t you get some more sleep, Zuko,” Katara suggests softly. “You’re still running a fever.”

While Zuko settles back down with Momo, still far too close to the edge of the saddle in Aang’s opinion, Aang takes Karata’s place on top of Appa’s head and gives the bison a pat when he rumbles tiredly.

“Not much further, buddy,” Aang soothes, casting his gaze up to the sky. “Looks like it’s gonna rain anyway.”

Sokka groans. “Yeah, let’s not get caught in the rain again. Last time that happened, we accidentally acquired some weird incarnation of the literal fire prince.”

~

A lot happens very quickly after that. They stop to make camp (leaving Zuko sleeping peacefully on Appa’s “softestest” head), Sokka fails to catch a fish, and then they save a weirdly calm man from being mauled by a platypus-bear. All in all, it’s a very eventful morning. 

And, as expected, it starts pouring down just after Aang opens the umbrella. 

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Sokka says firmly, crossing his arms petulantly across his chest.

“Aang, go keep Zuko dry,” Katara says, rolling her eyes at Sokka as she bends the water above her into an umbrella-like shape of her own. “I’ll handle grumpy guts over here.”

“Hey!” 

Aang bounces up onto Appa’s back where Zuko is trying in vain to curl further in on himself against the rain.

“Hey, Zuko,” he says, pulling the prince to sit up so they both fit properly under the umbrella. 

Zuko blinks sleepily at him and buries his fingers in Appa’s fur with a soft sigh. 

“You feeling any better?” Aang asks, touching his hand to Zuko’s head to feel his fever. 

But Zuko doesn’t appear to be listening and is instead looking down at his lap in dismay.

“Where’s the turtleduck?” He asks, looking imploringly at Aang. 

Aang frowns. They really need to up “get Zuko some medicine” to Priority One. He wonders if maybe this ‘Aunt Wu’ will be able to point them in the right direction.

“It was right here,” Zuko laments, twisting his hands in his lap. Then, a look of panic flashes across his face before it’s quickly replaced with one of resignation. “Azula got it, didn’t she?”

“Oh!” Aang realises. “You mean Momo!”

At the sound of his name (and possibly to get out of the rain), the lemur scurries over the lip of the saddle and settles in the space between the two boys, one paw resting on Zuko’s knee curiously. Seeing Momo has an instant effect and Zuko’s entire face lights up with joy and relief. 

“You’re okay!” He squeaks - honest to spirits,  _ squeaks _ \- as he scoops Momo up and cradles him gently against his chest. Momo, never one to turn down affection, settles in for some serious head scritches. 

“Sokka, just admit you might be wrong and you can come over here. I’m bending most of the rain away!” Katara’s voice floats up and Aang looks down in front of them to see Sokka stubbornly staying several feet away from where Katara is bending. 

“Look, I’m going to predict the future now,” Sokka says, adopting what Aang has come to recognise as his ‘mocking’ position and ‘I’m-making-fun-of-you’ voice. “It’s going to keep drizzling.” He emphasises his point with a mysterious wave of his fingers and, as quickly as it started, the rain stops.

Even from behind, Aang can picture Katara’s amused smirk.

“Not everyone has the gift, Sokka,” Aang teases as he folds the umbrella away again.

Sokka turns to glare at him but doesn’t stop walking. Aang gives it maybe ten seconds before he trips over a rock.

“Nobody has the gift!” Sokka says furiously. “There is no gift. You can’t tell the future. It’s impossib-AH!”

Aang holds Zuko steady as Appa shakes out his wet fur right next to where Sokka is lying in the dirt and can’t quite smother a laugh at the sound of Sokka’s indignant groan from behind him.

“Earthquake,” Zuko mutters, eyes drooping shut again as he lists towards Aang.

Aang wraps an arm around him and encourages him closer. He sighs. “I hope Aunt Wu knows where we can find a cure,” he says, more to himself than to Zuko who is quickly drifting back to sleep, Momo still cuddled in his arms.

Though, Aang has to admit, he’s getting more and more reluctant to send Zuko back to that ship with every new thing he learns about him. Maybe he can convince Sokka and Katara that it would be strategically appropriate to incorporate Zuko as part of their group. Keep your enemies closer and all that. At least that way, he wouldn’t be chasing them.

~

When they reach what appears to be Aunt Wu’s house, Aang slips down from Appa with Zuko (and Momo, because the two are a package deal at the moment) in tow. 

“Aunt Wu is expecting you,” says a man who absolutely  _ embodies  _ the essence of a mysterious old man.

Aang manages to get Zuko somewhat balanced on his shaky legs though the prince is still leaning heavily against him to stay upright. Despite his weakness and feverish confusion, his grip on Momo is as steady as ever. Aang can’t resist a smile. 

(Okay, you caught him. He’s grown  _ fond  _ of Zuko in the time he’s been with them. So what? Shut up, Sokka!

Sokka, thankfully, is too busy being exasperated by the idea of fortune-telling to notice.)

A girl with an impressively stiff hairstyle greets them and introduces herself as Meng. After taking one look at Zuko propped up against Aang’s side, she grows serious.

“The firebender,” she says, making Aang stiffen. He shares a look of anxiety with Katara and Sokka but Meng is already schooling her features into one of calm neutrality. “Aunt Wu said you’d come, Prince Zuko.”

Some of Zuko’s weight lifts off of Aang’s shoulder as he tries to right himself, apparently forced upright by his title. His hands form into a wobbly flame and he bows politely. Aang bends the air in front of him when he predictably starts to pitch forward and quickly slips a steadying arm around Zuko’s waist.

“He’s ill,” Katara explains but Meng looks unperturbed.

Aang is about to ask if they can see Aunt Wu to ask about a cure or a healer or just a nudge in the right direction when Meng returns the bow, hands tucked into her wide sleeves.

“Aunt Wu will see you now,” she says, finally looking away from Zuko to include the others. “All of you.”

Zuko, still shaky against Aang’s side, steps forward and Aang falls into step with him as they follow Meng towards the divider separating them from Aunt Wu. Behind him, he hears Katara mutter, “Still think Aunt Wu’s a crank?”

“Shut up, Katara,” Sokka grumbles and, without turning around, Aang can tell he’s scowling hard.

The divider opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your nice comments friends!! they make me very happy :)


	4. Interlude

The mask and swords are missing from Zuko’s wall. 

When Iroh goes to check on his nephew after Zhao’s men leave, he finds his cabin empty and tries to push down the instant spike of panic which rises in his chest. In their three years at sea, Zuko has become quite adept at sneaking out unnoticed but it still strikes fear into Iroh’s heart every time. He wonders, as he always does, if this time Zuko’s recklessness will get him killed. Iroh doesn’t think he will survive the loss of another son.

The days pass and Zuko does not return. News reaches the ship of the resurgence of the Blue Spirit, of the capture and rescue of the avatar, of the disappearance of the Blue Spirit along with the avatar. 

Part of Iroh hopes desperately that his nephew is safe, that somehow he has overcome his need to please his father and joined the avatar in order to bring him down. But he knows this is deeply unlikely. Iroh has tried over the years to gently persuade his nephew that he is chasing an impossible dream, that his father had set him an insurmountable task precisely because he did not ever wish to see his son again. But, as the proverb says, absence has made Zuko’s heart grow ever fonder of his father and he has rationalised his actions as those of a struggling father doing his best to tame his rebellious son. 

Iroh will never forgive his brother for making Zuko believe he deserves his scar.

When Iroh thinks of Zuko, his  _ child,  _ facing the avatar and his friends alone, he finds his heart in his mouth. Despite his immense power, the avatar is still only a child and children are often rash, especially when they feel they are in danger. If Zuko had attacked the avatar, if the avatar had put him down…

Iroh remembers the way the avatar buried their ship in ice, remembers the devastation he saw as he watched the avatar escape. The air nomads may be pacifists but the avatar is more than his upbringing. He is the anger of fire, the rage of water, the power of earth, the violence of air. Thinking about his nephew, reckless and alone, taking on the sheer force of the avatar makes Iroh feel distinctly ill. This thought is so vivid and so painfully possible that Iroh sits down hard on the ship’s deck and tries very hard not to cry.

“General Iroh!” 

That sounds like Jee, angry even in his concern. Iroh thinks, despite Jee’s vocal objection to taking orders from a furious teenager, that some of his concern might be for Zuko too. He hopes so. Zuko has precious few people left to care about him in this world.

Iroh takes several deep breaths and opens his eyes, both unable and unwilling to summon his genial old man smile. He does not feel genial though he does feel achingly old.

“Captain,” he says flatly. 

Jee shifts awkwardly under the intensity of Iroh’s gaze before he rights himself, puffing his chest out and cocking his chin.

“Sir, the crew in concerned about the whereabouts of the prince,” he says, looking Iroh directly in the eye with a gaze packed with meaning.

_ You know something,  _ it says. 

_ The prince would trust you with his life,  _ it says.

_ I actually care about the stupid kid but I don’t want to admit it so please just tell me what’s going on so I can rest easy,  _ it practically screams.

Iroh blinks. He does not stand, uncertain if his legs will support him.

“I believe our mission is over, Captain,” he says, sounding as exhausted as he feels. 

His heart tugs with sadness as he watches understanding and grief write itself into the lines of Jee’s face. He can only think that Zuko will never know how much his crew cared for him, how much Iroh truly loved (loves) him.

“What are our orders, General?” Jee asks with clipped professionalism. Iroh wonders if this is what Jee looks like when he’s holding back tears. 

Iroh sighs. “The crew must be informed, of course. I will personally write letters of recommendation for wherever you choose to go.”

Jee is quiet for a moment. “And you, sir?”

Iroh’s mouth thins and he feels a new surge of fury replace the grief settling in his chest. Surprisingly, it is not directed at the avatar who is, after all, still a child. A frightened child with no home and no family and Iroh has seen first hand over the past three years just how badly such a life can scar a child. The rage is colder than the lightning Iroh wants to push into his brother’s heart.

“My nephew must be put to rest,” Iroh says softly. “My mission is only just beginning.”

Captain Jee nods and then he is gone. The deck is empty. Iroh buries his face in his hands and weeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna reply to all your nice comments soon!! omg thank you for leaving them. and also sorry about the Angst.


End file.
